 | My Mind and its Thoughts, in Sketches, Fragments, and Essays |  |
141
SONNET, TO MAJOR GENERAL LINCOLN.
Think not, brave Lincoln, that the rage of time,
Can from thy warrior brow the laurel rend;
Though midst its green the living snows descend,
It still shall flourish with unfading prime.
Can from thy warrior brow the laurel rend;
Though midst its green the living snows descend,
It still shall flourish with unfading prime.
See the wrapt student at his midnight oil,
Recount thy deeds and lead thee down to fame,
While the young hero kindles at thy name,
Dwells on thy glorious wounds, and boasts thy toil.
Recount thy deeds and lead thee down to fame,
While the young hero kindles at thy name,
Dwells on thy glorious wounds, and boasts thy toil.
How o'er red Carolina's arid plain,
Thine was to brave the dog-star's striking glow,
And thine to lead bleak winters hardy train,
O'er Pelham's stormy heights—through Athol's vales of snow;
There, first in danger, forced thy fearless way,
Here, at thy feet, subdued rebellion lay.
Thine was to brave the dog-star's striking glow,
And thine to lead bleak winters hardy train,
O'er Pelham's stormy heights—through Athol's vales of snow;
There, first in danger, forced thy fearless way,
Here, at thy feet, subdued rebellion lay.
| My Mind and its Thoughts, in Sketches, Fragments, and Essays | |